


Istanbul (not Constantinople)

by ginnyred



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Cooking, M/M, No Previous Knowledge of The Umbrella Academy Required, No Spoilers, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 09:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18049700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyred/pseuds/ginnyred
Summary: It starts with a song.Or: Nico "cooks" and Marti knows his history. Somehow, none of that matters in the slightest.





	Istanbul (not Constantinople)

Nico is cooking.

Well, “cooking”. He's actually just microwaving his mum's leftover lasagne while setting the table for two – which is also, not really coincidentally, the only type of kitchen activity Marti sort of trusts him with.

Nico seems much more taken by the song that's currently playing from his speakers than by anything else anyway. He's not dancing exactly, but there is a rhythm to his movements as he opens the kitchen drawers and takes out the cutlery and then goes back for the glasses.

He's humming along under his breath too, which makes Marti smile – and that's when he starts paying attention to the music as well. The song Nico is mouthing is weird and, as eclectic as Nico's music taste can be, definitely not something Marti would ever associate with him.

“What's this? It sounds super old,” he says as he sits down at the table, and Nico rolls his eyes at him.

“I take it you still haven't caught up?”

“With what?” That earns Marti an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, is this from that Umbrella show you like? I'll watch it at some point, I promise.”

“At some point.” Nico scoffs. “We're watching it this afternoon.”

“I have to study this afternoon,” Marti points out with half a smile.

It's his 'change my mind' tone – light and playful. Which is different from his – considerably more serious but still fond – 'I absolutely have to finish this translation but how about later' tone. Which in turn is miles away from the frantic babbling and dramatic gestures typical of Marti's 'I have a test on this tomorrow and I literally don't know what _this_ is' tone.

Nico has become an expert in navigating his “I have to study” by now. It's never a lie: he always has to study. It's the degree of urgency that varies. And Nico likes a challenge. And Marti likes the glint in Nico's eyes when he sees there's a chance he might have his way.

“Yeah, right,” Nico says, and he already sounds smug. “You'll like it, you'll see.”

The microwave dings, and Nico opens it and takes out the lasagne. He brings the plate over to the table and divides the lasagne into two portions. He grins as he serves the less burnt one to Marti.

In the background, the song seems only to be getting faster and faster.

“What's this guy saying anyway?” Marti strains to catch the words but the singer is too fast for him. “Istanbul?”

“Yeah, 'Istanbul not Constantinople',” Nico says with an amused smile as he sits down next to him. “He keeps asking 'why did Constantinople get the works?'”

“I don't know what that means,” Marti admits. Nico is way better than him at English: true, most of it comes from memorizing song lyrics rather than from actual schoolwork. But still.

“Like, why did Constantinople get punished so harshly that the name had to go.” Nico takes a bite of his lasagne. “Basically.”

“Well, because the Eastern Roman Empire fell and the Ottomans took over-”

Nico laughs and almost chokes on his lasagne, and Marti hides a grin. He mostly just said it to get a reaction out of him – and a little bit because what's the point of studying so much if you don't get to show off what you know, right?

Not that Nico doesn't know about Constantinople. That's beside the point.

Marti smiles as Nico finally stops coughing and affectionately boops his nose.

“I love it when you talk 15th-century geopolitics to me.”

Marti wishes he had something just as witty to say back to him. He doesn't, not right now. He's too busy watching Nico's beautiful face open up in a smile – fond and proud and a little bit cheeky.

It's ridiculous how vulnerable that makes him feel. Marti knows he probably looks like an idiot, just staring, saying nothing, his lasagne long forgotten, an inexplicable lump in his throat. But he can't help it.

“What?” Nico asks, smiling gently, his eyes crinkled, and Marti shrugs.

He doesn't know. Or, well, he does, but the magnitude of it... it's hard to put it into words.

“The first name of Constantinople was actually Byzantium,” is what Marti says in the end, because it's no shit Sherlock day apparently and _this_ he can do quite well. “Does your song say that too?”

Nico plays along.

“It doesn't. A shame, really.”

“Right? We should send an angry email to...” Marti gestures vaguely. “Whoever these guys are.”

“If you write it, I'll co-sign it.”

“Thank you.”

Nico's smile is so blinding Marti has to look away. He glances down at his half-burnt lasagne but he doesn't really see them.

“Marti?”

Nico's voice is quiet and low and kind. It's weird how it makes him think of the abstract shapes Nico loves to draw on his back with the tip of his fingers. It feels like that, though – this voice.

The strangest mix of comfort and goosebumps.

“Mh?”

Marti looks up again.

He's almost overwhelmed by the green and the gold in Nico's eyes, by the familiar curve of his smile. Nico's right hand moves slowly across the table and rests on Marti's left.

“Me too,” Nico says, barely above a whisper, and the words seem to hang in the air for a moment – like they're too real to just dissolve.

They both exhale with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is most definitely not what I was trying to write, but here we are again. When will I learn? (Spoiler: probably never). Also idk, I just craved lasagne, I guess.
> 
> The song is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TuJKsfpfNI), in case you want to have it stuck in your head for the next century or so.


End file.
